


Wilt

by kamicchis



Series: The victorious Rikkai dai [1]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Character Death, In which Sanada doesn't slap his team mates, In which Yukimura's illness is far worse than portrayed in the series, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-01 12:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18334793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamicchis/pseuds/kamicchis
Summary: According to Yanagi, Rikkai had a fifty percent chance of winning against Seigaku. Meanwhile, Yukimura had a fifty percent chance of survival.





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this fic for years and years, so please enjoy!

It was quarter to eight in the evening. Sanada knew he'd have to soon bid his farewells, then somberly head homeー

 

“Sanada,” Yukimura said, his voice as fragile as he looked. “Lay down with me.”

 

ーbut Sanada wouldn't leave until he absolutely had to.

 

Yukimura's hand squeezed Sanada's softly. It reminded Sanada that they were, in fact, holding hands; as they often did when Sanada came to visit. Yukimura couldn't manage nor handle much in this state, but the captain seemed to find comfort in Sanada's fingertips mapping along the back of his pale hand, tender touches on an extremity that he could still _feel._

 

“Are you getting tired?” Sanada asked, slowly standing up from the chair placed at Yukimura's hospital bedside. He didn't let go of his hand.

 

“Mm.” Yukimura nodded slowly. “Albeit no more so than usual.”

 

Sanada sat down on the terribly uncomfortable hospital bed. It squeaked at the added weight. He removed his shoes, slowly pivoting so he was properly seated at Yukimura's side. He helped adjust Yukimura's position so they could both lay comfortably. It was times like this, when Sanada had him scooped into his arms like a limp doll, that he realized how thin and frail he had gotten through advancement of his illness. Yukimura, for the most part, was now unable to move.

 

At least his surgery was upcoming soon.

 

“Comfortable?” Sanada asked.

 

Yukimura hummed in response, his head settling into Sanada's neck. Their fingers remain intertwined, arms placed on Yukimura’s hip as they laid facing one another, both on their sides. It was silent for a long moment.

 

“You should be training.” Yukimura said.

 

Sanada sighed. “Yes, but Iー”

 

“That's the priority.” Yukimura pressed. “Rikkai needs you.”

 

 _You need me_ . Sanada wanted to argue; but not only did that embarrass the vice captain himself, but he didn't want to degrade Yukimura any further. There was a reason that after the steady decline of his ability to move _anything_ over the past week, only Yanagi and Sanada were allowed to see him.

 

He didn't say it directly, but Sanada knew; he knew that Yukimura didn't want the rest of the team to see him so vulnerable.

 

“I know.” Sanada agreed finally, his deep voice laced gently with a soft, concerned tone that only Yukimura knew. Maybe Yanagi.

 

Yukimura nodded, blinking slowly. His lips curved into a small smile, delayed and lopsided, a clear struggle present even with the nerves in Yukimura's _face._ It broke Sanada's heart.

 

“Akaya has been taking care of the plants on the school grounds.” Sanada changed the subject, mostly for his own sake. He stared at the white wall of the dreary hospital room.

 

“Ho? I’m pleased.” Yukimura crooned. “A relaxing activity will do him well.”

 

“Yanagi supervises.” Sanada added, and Yukimura laughed. His soft, gentle, chime-like laugh; _that_ remained unchanged. Subconsciously, Sanada held him tighter. He wondered if Yukimura could even tell. “Just in case.”

 

“He's a good kid.” Yukimura murmured, and Sanada wasn't sure whether he was talking about Kirihara or Yanagi.

 

Sanada could feel Yukimura's faint breath as he pressed into his collarbone. Sanada wanted time to freeze, so they could remain in this position forever; exploring how close their bodies could press and all the unique ways in which they fit together, like the pieces of a puzzle.

 

Yukimura was quiet for a long moment, and Sanada wondered if he had fallen asleep. But he could feel a gentle twitch against his hand, Yukimura's curled fingers nubbing at his palm.

 

“You should head home, Sanada.” Yukimura said, voice hoarse.

 

He had known the frail man for long enough to know that there would be no room for argument. “Yeah.” Sanada strained, giving Yukimura's hand a squeeze.

 

Despite this, it took Sanada a good twenty seconds before he finally stood. He helped ease Yukimura onto his back again, ensuring he was comfortable and tucking the blanket around him neatly.

 

“Is there anything you want me to pass on to the others?” Sanada asked. It physically pained his heart to gather his bag, pulling it over his shoulder.  He wanted to stay.

 

“I trust in your instructions, Sanada.” Yukimura assured him. “I'm glad they have you.”

 

* * *

 

The next time Sanada was at the hospital, he was surprised to find Yukimura’s hospital room filled with dozens of flower bouquets.

 

Yukimura laid limp, head tilted on a pillow and angled towards the window at his bedside, opposite of the door where Sanada stood.

 

“Yanagi was here earlier.” Yukimura explained, the blues of his eyes glancing at Sanada through is peripheral vision. He remained motionless, facing away from him. “He was the one that delivered these.”

 

Sanada nodded in acknowledgement, though he was surprised. Yanagi hadn't mentioned anything about visiting Yukimura; and it would have made sense for them to go together, especially if Yanagi was assumptiously carrying this many flowers.

 

But that didn't matter.

 

“They smell nice.” Sanada commented.

 

Yukimura laughed. “Do they? All I can smell is hospital room.” He chuckled. “Perhaps this is my punishment for having spent too much time in the garden. The scent is beyond me.”

 

Sanada smiled softly. Yukimura looked best when he was in the garden, humming happily as he tended to his plants. He sat down on the usual chair, placed at Yukimura’s bedside in front of the window. Finally, he was within Yukimura’s line of vision, and the younger boy’s eyes softened. At this stage of his illness, Yukimura’s body was mostly paralyzed; but his eyes were as expressive as always.

 

“They’re lovely, of course.” Yukimura added then. “But please do sit closer, Sanada.”

 

Sanada’s throat went dry, and he adjusted his chair. With only one moment’s hesitation, he reached out to take Yukimura’s limp hand. Sanada knew he could bend the appendage any which way and he wouldn’t feel it. The gentle caress of Yukimura’s fingertips of his own ordinance was now something of the past.

 

“Only a few more days.” Yukimura murmured. He mentioned it so casually, as if they were discussing the weather. His words made Sanada’s heart clench.

 

“Till your surgery, too.” Sanada had to say, knowing that Yukimura was referring to their match against Seigaku. Of course Rikkai’s win was as important to him as it was to Yukimura, but the life of his captain was what was most important. It’s what was most important to _all_ of them.

 

“Thank goodness,” Yukimura murmured. “I can hardly bear being this useless anymore.”

 

Sanada smiled softly, drawing his thumb across Yukimura’s knuckles. He forgot for a moment that he couldn’t feel it. “Things will be back to normal soon.” Sanada agreed.

 

Yukimura nodded. “The rehabilitation will take a while.”

 

“I’d do it for you if I could.” Sanada said.

 

Yukimura laughed softly, like a wind chime. “I know you would. Relax, Sanada. Everything will turn out fine.”

 

“It will.” Sanada confirmed, his throat dry.

 

“Yes, it will.” Yukimura repeated, his lips curling into a weak smile. “Have faith in me.”

 

* * *

 

Days passed, and only the fall of dusk remained before Yukimura’s surgery the next morning.

 

Thankfully, both Sanada and Yanagi came to the agreement that the team should rest the evening before their Seigaku match, and that all of them would have been far too distant to focus on training anyways.

 

“There’s a 98% chance that you have something else on your mind.” came Yanagi’s calm tone from the other side of the net, earlier that morning before class.

 

Sanada had sighed, giving up his stance and allowing the tennis ball to bounce past the boundaries of the court. He had just served a particularly lousy lob, so he couldn’t even deny it. At least it was just the two of them practicing. “It won’t be like this tomorrow.” Sanada reassured him.

 

“I know, Genichirou.” Yanagi nodded, offering his pride some reassurance. “You’re going today, correct?”

 

“Going where?”

 

“To visit Seiichi.”

 

Sanada was quiet for a moment, fingers sliding over the griptape on his racket. He held his other hand against the weight of the strings. “I promised I would.”

 

Yanagi nodded again. “Good. You’d get no sleep otherwise.”

 

Sanada hated to admit that he was going to get no sleep either way, and beyond that, he hated to admit that the worse Yukimura’s condition got, the harder it was to close his eyes at night without vividly visualizing how the disease had taken over his body. He knew that was the last thing that Yukimura wanted, hence why he didn’t want anyone aside from Sanada and Yanagi to come visit him; but his condition was just so _heartbreaking_.

 

He should be preparing for their match tomorrow alongside his team, not preparing for surgery.

 

_How had this happened so suddenly?_

 

“Genichirou.” Yanagi suddenly said, tearing Sanada out of his emotional daze. His expression was vacant, as usual. “Take the love of everyone with you. He needs the encouragement.”

 

“I will.”

* * *

 

“Oh dear, look at these ones.” Yukimura said.

 

They were in the gardens behind the hospital, Sanada pushing Yukimura in a wheelchair down the smooth rock pathway. It was evening, and far past visiting hours. Yukimura went into surgery tomorrow, so this was the last time Sanada was able to visit without direct interference with their match against Seigaku.

 

They were lucky to be back here; as this garden wasn’t for visitors. It was clear that this was where the flower shop on the first floor of the hospital grew a majority of their flowers. Yukimura had apparently made such an impression on the staff with both his knowledge of flower keeping _and_ his charming personality, that they allowed him to visit as he liked.

 

The flowers that Yukimura gestured at had long stems with small, white blossoms. “What are they?” Sanada asked.

 

“Snowdrops.” Yukimura answered, almost a little too quickly. Sanada turned his wheelchair so that he could see them better from the position that he was propped in. “They’re beautiful flowers, but goodness, look at the weeds.”

 

The bush was thick with knotted, green weeds; curling up in every which direction and tangling within the stems of the flowers.

 

“They weren’t like this last time the nurse brought me down here.” He commented sadly. Sanada leaned in and picked one of the fallen blossoms off of the stone pathway. He held it closer for Yukimura to inspect. “Oh, they’re clearly unhealthy too. Poor things.”

Sanada was surprised that Yukimura could notice such things. They looked perfectly healthy to him. Gently, Sanada tucked the the steam behind Yukimura’s ear, who smiled.

 

“What about these ones?” Sanada pointed to the flowers growing in the patch across the pathway. “They look nice. Erーlilies?”

 

Turning his wheelchair so Yukimura could see, he hummed happily. “Oh yes, they’re beautiful! Do push me closer, Sanada.”

 

Sanada tried, but the wheels locked in the pebbles.

 

“Do you want me to pick one for you?”

 

“Oh, no. Let’s not disturb them.” Yukimura replied softly.

 

Sanada was quiet for a moment. Yukimura was always at peace in the garden. The garden at school wasn’t the same with the vacuous Kirihara tending to it. At least Yanagi was there to make sure he didn’t do anything wrong like accidentally over water one of the plants, but it wasn’t a sight that Sanada could bear either way.

 

“Can I lift you?” Sanada suggested softly.

 

“If you can.” Yukimura mused. “I hope I haven’t lost so much weight that I’m a feather to you, Sanada.”

 

He nodded. He circled around the wheelchair, lifting Yukimura’s limp body up into his arms. It was like holding a rag doll, and despite Yukimura’s words, he _had_ lost weight; a ridiculous amount. Sanada was careful, carrying him over to the stone ledge bordering the magnificent patch of lilies. Sanada laid Yukimura between his legs and propped on one arm and leaning back against his chest. He turned Yukimura’s head so he could examine the flowers.

 

“Can you see them?” He asked, his fingers delicately tilting Yukimura’s face, grazing his cheekbone.

 

Sanada had to appreciate how quaint this was, even if his heart was heavy with grief and worry. The wind blew gently through the garden, the hanging wind chimes on a nearby lamp post filling the quiet night with a soft tune. He held Yukimura closer.

 

“Yes, thank-you.” Yukimura said, letting out a soft sigh of content. Sanada held out his other arm, that remained attached to the IV on his chair. He stroked his wrist, his chin settling on top of Yukimura’s head. He wasn’t sure if Yukimura could feel any of it. Did he know he closely Sanada was holding him? Of course they laid together often on Yukimura’s hospital bed, but in a strange way, this felt much, much more intimate.

 

“Look, a petal has fallen from that one.” Yukimura gestured. “Could you brush it on my cheek?”

 

“Can you still feel touch there?” Sanada asked, pulling his fingers away quickly, as if he’d been burned. He was embarrassed that he’d gotten carried away without permission.

 

“I can.” Yukimura confirmed happily. “Sanada, I don’t mind your touch. It’s fine.”

Sanada exhaled softly through his nose, shifting slightly to pick up the fallen petal that Yukimura was gesturing to. He lifted it up and pressed the smooth, velvet surface to Yukimura’s cheek. He sighed happily, the touch of a flower must be something smooth and familiar.

 

“Oh, these are well-kept.” He commented. “They must be recently mulched.”

 

Sanada just nodded, having _no_ idea what that meant.

 

Yukimura and his flower talk.

 

“Mulch is decayed matter that you spread across the soil, it helps lock in moisture.” Yukimura explained, and Sanada found himself embarrassed that he somehow immediately _knew_ that Sanada didn’t know what he was talking about.

 

“I see.” Sanada responded gently, continuing to brush the petal across his cheek.

 

Yukimura sighed. “I’m glad that these are well cared for at least. When I wake up, I’ll be sure to talk to the florists about the condition of the snowdrops. I’m surprised that those of all flowers are the ones most unkempt; they’re common bouquets in hospitals.”

 

“Why?” Sanada asked. Now that he thought about it, these flowers looked familiar to the bouquets that Yanagi had crowded Yukimura’s room with earlier that week.

 

“They’re symbolic of hope,” Yukimura commented. “Hope and healing.”

 

Sanada was silently, lifting his hand and gently touching the flower bud tucked behind Yukimura’s ear.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Yukimura apologized suddenly. “I’m rambling on again. Sanada, you can tell me to be quiet at anytime you know.”

 

“No, I like listening to you talk about flowers.” Sanada assured him. Besides, it’s the most talkative that Yukimura was nowadays. “It’s interesting.”

 

“It’s drab.” Yukimura chuckled.

 

“It’s interesting!” Sanada insisted, pinching Yukimura’s cheek gently. He laughed again. “I promise.”

 

They sat together for a long while. The quiet, cool night breeze must have felt nice against the skin of Yukimura’s face. It was something different than the air of the hospital room he’d been trapped in for the past few months. _Anything_ was better than that to Yukimura, Sanada could tell that much, given how much he complained of it; and rightfully so. Even Sanada himself was beginning to dislike the smell of them.

 

They talked of tomorrow. Not of Yukimura’s surgery, but of the strategies he and Yanagi had set up for their match against Seigaku. Sanada and Yanagi. That didn’t feel right; even though Yanagi was a dear friend and someone much more qualified to help strategize against their opponents than anyone else on the team, it was still off. It should be the three of them. Yanagi and Yukimura. Sanada and Yukimura.

 

Sanada, Yanagi, and Yukimura.

 

“We were informed that there’s been some change to the singles match listings.” Sanada remembered then, his fingers stroking through Yukimura’s hair.

 

“Oh? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Yukimura frowned.

 

Sanada looked away sheepishly. He couldn’t say that this was a molehill compared to the mountain that was the current issue Yukimura was dealing with. Tennis mattered to Yukimura more than anything.

 

“That asideーwhat changes, Sanada?”

 

“Echizen got terribly sick, it seems.” Sanada recalled. “So singles 1 has been changed to one of Seigaku’s third years.”

 

“Who?” He pressed.

 

“Kawamura Takashi.”

 

“Ho? Is he fit to play again?” Yukimura asked. “I thought he was injured during their match with Hyotei.”

 

“Apparently.” Sanada shrugged. He didn’t know the full details of it, just that he wasn’t too worried. Kawamura wasn’t particularly well-known for strategic playーSanada was sure that he could face him with no issue.

 

Silence fell between them again. Yukimura had faith in him, Sanada knew that much. Talking about the match made Sanada’s heart ache; he wished it was today, or even the day after tomorrow. _Any_ day except the day that Yukimura was having his surgery.

 

“Do your best tomorrow.”  

 

“I’ll try to make it here as fast as I can.” Sanada spit out. “So Iー”

 

“Don’t you _dare_ rush it.” Yukimura warned him, his voice frail but still incredibly stern. “If you’re antsy, everyone else will be too. We can’t afford that.”

 

Sanada went silent.

 

“Give it your best. If your match lasts two hours, then so be it.” Yukimura said, voice cross. “Do whatever it is you need to win, nothing less.”

 

“Of course.” Sanada agreed softly.

 

Yukimura smiled. Sanada, who still had his fingers in Yukimura’s thin hair, gently tipped his head back so he could look at him. “I know you’ll win.” He murmured. The sudden change in his voice was _almost_ enough to give Sanada whiplash, but rather he melted against him, holding his lithe frame closer to himself.

 

“We’ll win.” Sanada confirmed. “And you’ll make it.”

 

“Of course.” Yukimura mimicked, humming happily as Sanada hugged him tightly. “Nothing less.” He spoke softly.

 

A strong gust of wind blew through the garden suddenly, sending Sanada’s hat flying off into the enormous bush of white lilies. He gasped, quickly [but carefully] collecting Yukimura in his arms to return him to the wheelchair. He reached for his cap, thankfully not too far lost in the garden.

 

“Be careful!” Yukimura called after him, laughing. “You’ll hurt the flowers.”

 

Sanda rolled his eyes, refastening his hat on his head before he returned to his position behind Yukimura’s wheelchair. The sudden wind was a sign that it was time to go inside.

 

As he rolled his chair, the garden wind chimes hooked on a nearby lamp post dislodged, clattering to the stone ground with a horribly shrill clatter. Sanada jumped.

 

“ _Definitely_ time to go inside.” Sanada mumbled to himself, and Yukimura laughed.

 

“Onward.” Yukimura prompted, a rare playfulness in his tone.

 

Sanada smiled.

 

Things were different now, though somehow still the same. The familiarity made Sanada feel at ease. Everything was bound to turn out fine.

 

After everything that Yukimura and the rest of Rikkai went through, the universe certainly owed them that much.


	2. Dance of Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reference to Sanada and Yukimura's duet "Kimi wo shinjiteru ~ Mou mayoi wa nai" from the musicals here. :)

Sleeping that night was impossible.

 

Dawn crept in through the windows of Sanada's room, the chirping of the birds mocking the sleep that he certainly didn't get much of.

 

It was six in the morning, and suddenly Sanada's phone rang.

 

Every single irrational thought in the world ran through his mind in that moment. Had Yukimura somehow already had his surgery and this was a call about the news? Was there an unexpected torrential downpour incoming and their match with Seigaku was cancelled? He grabbed his phone, and though it should be no surprise to read the kanji of Yanagi’s name illuminating the screen, he somehow found himself still disappointed.

 

“Good morning.” Sanada said, not realizing how terrible and sleep deprived he sounded until he heard himself talk.

 

Yanagi was silent for a moment. “Did you sleep at _all_ , Genichirou?”

 

“Hardly.” He admitted. There was no point in trying to lie to him.

 

“Get dressed. I’m outside.”

 

“I'm sorry, you're what?”

 

“I'm outside, on the street.” Yanagi repeated, his voice thin. Sanada knew that he didn't like to repeat himself. “But I'll wait. Get your stuff together.”

 

“Uh, alright—”

 

Yanagi hung up.

 

It was six in the morning, why was Yanagi outside his house? Their match wasn't until noon.

 

Figuring it was better to listen than to disobey Yanagi, heaven forbid, he slipped out of bed and got dressed quickly. He swung his tennis bag over his shoulder, securing his hat on his head before leaving his room.

 

His grandfather was sitting downstairs at the kotatsu, newspaper spread out on the table in front of him. He nodded at Sanada, who nodded back. Nothing further was exchanged.

 

When he stepped outside, even though he was expecting it, seeing Yanagi sitting on his bike on the roadside was still bizarre. Yanagi waved to him.

 

“Good morning.” Yanagi finally returned.

 

“What?” Sanada asked, walking up to him. “The match isn't until twelve.”

 

Yanagi looked insulted that Sanada would assume he forgot. “I know. Let's go visit Seiichi.”

 

Sanada’s heart lurched hearing his name.

 

“His surgery isn’t until twelve also, I'm sure seeing you will lift his spirits.”

 

“You too.” Sanada insisted, giving Yanagi's shoulder a light push.

 

Yanagi actually smiled.

 

“Alright. Hop on, then.”

 

“What?”

 

“On the back. Secure your grip by holding onto my shoulders.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“My sister makes me take her around like this all the time. It's fine.” Yanagi assured him.

 

Sanada was still for a moment, having to remind himself that this was all for Yukimura's sake.

 

“...Alright.”

 

Yanagi smiled again.

 

Securing his feet on the bars of the back wheel, Sanada gripped Yanagi's shoulder, and away they went.

 

He couldn't describe the feeling that tugged his chest. The morning scenery was beautiful, the sky a vivid red with hardly a cloud in sight. Birds sung their songs on the ledges of backyard fences, gently waking up the citizens of the neighborhood.

 

“How was he yesterday?” Yanagi asked, taking a wide left turn down a residential street. This was a route he knew all too well, the direction to the hospital.

 

“Curious about the match today, as usual.” Sanada replied.

 

Yanagi nodded. “Understandably. How are you feeling?”

 

“We’ll win.” Sanada stated simply.

 

“Of course.” Yanagi agreed. “But how are you?”

 

Sanada was quiet for a moment, unsure of how to answer. How was he? He didn’t even know; he was so caught up with how everyone and everything else was.

 

“Tired.” Sanada admitted finally. Yanagi didn’t reply for a moment, and Sanada narrowed his eyes. “Why do you even need to ask?” He pressed. “I’m sure you knew already.”

 

“Of course.” Yanagi repeated thoughtfully, glancing over his shoulder to Sanada.

 

“How are you?” Sanada asked awkwardly.

 

“Hopeful.” Yanagi said, focusing his gaze back on the street ahead of them. “My data has changed. With the dropout of Seigaku's Echizen, there’s now a 88.7% chance we'll win.”

 

Sanada wanted to ask if anything had changes in regards to Yukimura’s probabilities; but that was something that went far beyond Yanagi's data.

 

He held tighter onto Yanagi’s shoulders as they rode off the road and onto a pathway through a park. It was fairly unlively given the time of morning, aside from the few people out on an early morning jog.  He wondered what it looked like to see two boys in bright yellow tracksuits riding a single bike in the park at this hour.

 

Sanada’s chest grew heavier the closer they got to the hospital. Yanagi began to pedal faster, sweat building at his brow from the added weight on the bike. He could see the hospital in the distance, he could see the extravagant trees that lined the front courtyard, something Yukimura always pointed out whenever Sanada got the chance to wheel him down for some fresh air.

 

This would be the last time they'd visit the hospital with a feeling dread, Sanada realized.

 

Any future visit would be to share news of their victory with Yukimura, once he had awoken. They'd visit to celebrate the small victories he would make with learning how to move again, how to walk again, how to play tennis again.

 

Hearing Yukimura's soft, gentle laugh; soothing like the sweet tune of a wind chime wouldn't have Sanada clutching his chest in fear of loss, but rather in love.

 

Unabashedly and truly in love.

 

Yanagi sped up, and Sanada closed his eyes for a moment as the whistling wind brushed his cheeks.

 

“Seiichi!” Yanagi called out suddenly, and Sanada’s heart lurched.

 

He looked over, seeing Yukimura seated in his wheelchair in front of the hospital, among the flowers, among the trees, among nature; where he looked best suited. He was with his parents, a large bouquet of snowdrops propped on his lap. Even from this distance, Sanada could see Yukimura’s expression liven upon seeing them.

 

Sanada knew that interrupting time with his family was uncalled for, and somehow, silently, Yanagi knew also. He didn't slow down, instead pedaling hard as they breezed down the pathway in front of the large building.

 

“I'm going!” Yukimura called out, a gust of wind blowing from behind him, silky strands blowing in front of his face; just as it did when he was on the tennis court, powerful and passionate.

 

Sanada smiled, large and wide. He nodded, fastening his grip on Yanagi's shoulder. He lifted his other arm, waving out to him. “I’m going!” Sanada yelled back, voice carried on the wind, the leaves rustling all around them.

 

Yanagi said nothing, keeping his focus on the path in front of them as Sanada waved with all his might. Long out of the vision of Yukimura, Sanada waved his farewells to the hospital, to the sickness, to the heartache.

 

And off to their match they would go.  


* * *

  


The afternoon quickly snuck up over the Kanto prefecture, and so began the start of the final regionals match; Rikkai Dai versus Seishun Gakuen.

 

After visiting Yukimura briefly, Yanagi and Sanada set out to a nearby cafe to further discuss the estimated outcome of the match; a plan that they’d gone over multiple times before. Yanagi seemed set on his 88.7% chance of victory. The only chance they had of losing seemed to be if Echizen showed up unexpectedly, which apparently accounted for a missing 10% in Yanagi’s data.

 

The rest was out of potential distraction that any of them could encounter during their matches out of concern for their captain.

 

As they stood huddled on their side of the court at the strike of noon, Sanada and Yanagi stood together in front of the rest of the team.

 

“Rikkai has won this tournament for the past fifteen years, this year will be no exception.” Sanada said firmly, arms crossed. Yanagi nodded. “Every worry we have outside of this match, and I know we all have them, is to be left on the bench, not within your matches.” He went on.

 

Kirihara looked distant, Niou and Yagyuu had vacant expressions. Jackal stared at his feet, and Marui had his hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts.

 

“Understood?”

 

“Yes, sir!” said everyone, including Yanagi, who remained by his side.

 

“Alright, Marui, Jackal.” Sanada turned his attention to the first doubles pair. “Do your best, we’ll leave this in your hands.”

 

The both of them nodded, and Jackal followed Marui onto the court.

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

Taking a seat on the bench beside Yanagi, he couldn’t help but notice that he seemed distracted. Sanada’s expression tightened, and he placed his hand on Yanagi’s shoulder.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Ah, it’s just…” Yanagi shook his head, looking across the court. From the benches where Seigaku sat, a tall, dark haired boy with glasses was staring at them with an unreadable expression. “I knew that I’d see him here, but it’s different to actually _see_ him here.”

 

He sounded somewhat uncertain, which was incredibly bizarre for someone like Yanagi.

 

“Sadaharu Inui, was it?” Sanada asked, and Yanagi nodded. It was hard to hear him over the sound of the cheering crowd.

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’ll win, Renji.” Sanada squeezed his shoulder.

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

The match began then. The tense atmosphere was nothing compared to the heavy feeling in Sanada’s gut. Having visited the hospital earlier that morning was nice, almost delivering a sense of closure to his worry; but it had caught up to him again. He watched silently, proudly, as the first doubles match was won by Rikkai, Marui and Jackal reeling in with 6-1.

 

Next up was Yagyuu and Niou, another pair that Sanada was hardly worried about.

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

The cheers almost made Sanada feel sick. He knew the entire court was filled with worry, and the cheering almost sounded like a taunt rather than a gesture of encouragement. Glancing down at his phone, Sanada noted the time, and that Yukimura was definitely in surgery now.  

 

Now all they could do was wait.

 

There was a bit more of a struggle in this match, but just as according to Yanagi’s data, everything worked out as planned. The platinum pair won with 6-4.

 

“We’re counting on you.” Sanada encouraged, watching as Yanagi removed his racket from his bag. He seemed on edge, and Sanada couldn’t help but worry. Was that 2% chance of loss due to distraction to account for Yanagi’s own feelings?

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

If they could _just_ reel in this match, Rikkai would win, and there would be no need for the remaining players to enter the court. They would be declared the winners for the sixteenth year in a row, and they could hurry to the hospital.

 

“C’mon, Renji.” Sanada murmured under his breath.

 

It was an intense match, truly something that none of them had ever seen before. Sanada had a hard time keeping up with Yanagi’s style of data tennis, so two players using the same strategy left all of them in a daze; wondering how on Earth these numbers and sudden guesses were formulated so quickly and suddenly.

 

The match was long and painful, and it was the first win of the match for Seigaku. Inui won 6-7.

 

“Sorry, everyone.” Yanagi bowed deep as he returned from the court. Kirihara stood up from his spot on the bench, giving Yanagi a reassuring pat to the shoulder.

 

“Leave it to me, senpai.” Kirihara nodded, and Yanagi nodded back.

 

“You let your feelings get in the way.” Sanada scolded as Yanagi took a seat down next to him. He draped a towel over his shoulders, remaining silent as he dabbed the sweat from his neck. “Renji.”

 

“I know.”

 

Sanada sighed, looking down at the ground. He felt like he had no right to be upset with Yanagi, given that Sanada himself was feeling literal stomach churning nausea out of worry. All the feelings he managed to swallow earlier were resurfacing, and they were more powerful than ever.

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

“Win, Akaya!” Sanada yelled, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

From his position on the tennis court, Kirihara nodded quickly.

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

But of course there was worry whenever Seigaku’s genius, Fuji Shuusuke, was involved. This match was no exception. Yanagi’s normally calm aura was troubled, his expression contorting in worry as the match progressed. Kirihara was losing control of himself; getting careless with his play.

 

Fuji won, 5-7.

 

Sanada could hear the blood in his ears, his own match now inevitable. He had no time to focus on troubling himself with disciplining Kirihara. He stood, removing his tennis racket from the bag.

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

The cheers of the crowd and those of the other regulars were drowned by Sanada’s own thoughts. He needed to get himself together. He needed to focus. He needed to _win_.

 

The team was relying on _him_ now.

 

The world spun around him.

 

“Game, start!” called the referee. “Kawamura to serve.”

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

Sanada wasted no time. His serve was powerful, as Yanagi had predicted during their strategy talk earlier, but nothing that Sanada couldn’t handle; a lousy aim to the center left of the court. He returned it with a volley.

 

“Fifteen-love!”

 

“Sanada!” someone cheered among the Rikkai regulars.

 

“Do your best, Taka-san!” someone called among the Seigaku regulars.

 

He inhaled sharply, preparing himself for the next serve.

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

They rallied back and forth, Sanada taking mental notes on Kawamura’s playing strategy. He knew he had to have better mental discipline; as he struggled with the urge to play carelessly, to win, and to win _fast_. Each second seemed like an eternity. Each strike of the ball made his chest ache.

 

“Thirty-love!”

 

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Sanada wondered if they were this loud when the other regulars were playing, he couldn’t recall—he’d been too focused on the matches, on their win. _They had to win_.

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

Kawamura served again, and thus began another rally. His hits were strong, one of the strongest he’d ever faced. Sanada wondered if it would be okay to hurry and get the match over with for the sake of saving himself the physical strain.

 

Sanada shuffled to the left, hitting the ball with a powerful swing. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Yanagi shuffling in his duffel bag on the bench. Sanada’s heart clenched, distracted for that fleeting moment as Yanagi pulled out his phone. The ring was the only thing Sanada could hear; the cheers, the sound of the wind, absolutely _everything_ was drowned out by it.

 

There’s only one reason that Yanagi would get called in the middle of a tennis match, and certainly not by anybody that would care that they were mid-game. Certainly not about any matter that was less important than tennis.

 

The ball whizzed past him, Sanada stuck in the position he last hit the ball in. The strike of it bouncing on the court floor was deafening.

 

“Thirty-fifteen!”

 

Sanada’s eyes widened. He was getting distracted.

 

He slapped himself mentally.  He had to _get it together._

 

But Sanada watched as Yanagi picked up the phone, quickly excusing himself from the court and hurrying off elsewhere. There was shuffling among the Seigaku regulars as well, and Sanada watched as Inui tailed off after him.

 

Luckily, Sanada pulled himself back into the game in the nick of time, swallowing his heartache.

 

“Fuu!”

 

He struck the ball in a fast, powerful swing. _Like the wind_.

 

“Forty-fifteen!” The referee called out. “Game to Rikkai Dai. Change courts!”

 

Sanada looked around, but Yanagi and Inui were completely out of sight. There were some whispers among the crowd, and the Rikkai regulars looked concerned, talking among themselves. It was hardly time to celebrate Sanada’s win; it would only matter if he won the entire game.

 

Changing courts, it was Sanada’s turn to serve.

 

“Fuu!”

 

Sanada repeated the same move, the racket cutting through the air in a swift movement. _Like the wind_.

 

“Fifteen-love!”

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

The match continued. Kawamura was unable to score another point against him. Sanada gathered all the mental strength he had to focus on the game, to bring home their win. Sweat dripped from his brow, his hair sticking to his forehead underneath his cap. The match was taking its toll on Kawamura too, who was running all over the court in an attempt to return at least _one_ of his serves.

 

But Sanada brought the game back to the favour of Rikkai, and won the game.

 

The crowd erupted in cheers, repetitive chanting filling the air.

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

And in Sanada’s mind, it felt as if he could hear the ticking of a clock. Hurry, _hurry._

 

The regulars from both teams came onto the court, bowing to each other and shaking hands. Sanada was happy to win, of course, but the congratulatory pats and cheers were beyond him right now. Yanagi. _Where was Yanagi?_

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

Sanada shoved his tennis racket into his bag, throwing it over his shoulder before hurrying off the court.

 

He searched around every building, desperate to find them. He pushed past random spectators, maneuvering his way around people who just wanted to wish him congratulations, or chat about how amazing it was that Rikkai won for the sixteenth year in a row. He was happy to win, of course he was, but there was only one person he wanted to share that news with.

 

_Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai! Josho, Rikkai Dai!_

 

Yanagi, Yanagi, Yanagi.

 

Where _was_ he?

 

And when Sanada finally stumbled across him, he almost wished that he hadn’t.

 

Yanagi sat in the dead brown grass, back pressed up against one of the stone storage sheds on the grounds. Inui of Seigaku was at his side, his arms around him.

 

Sanada wondered if maybe he’d stumbled in on something that he shouldn’t have; but he was quick to notice the way Yanagi’s hands trembled, his phone held in an iron tight grasp.

 

“Genichirou.” Yanagi gasped. His voice was raw. He probably heard Sanada running around from a mile away, yet he seemed unable to face him.  

 

Sanada stared at him, his dark eyes desperate for a sign that things weren’t what they seemed. There was no way. They had just won, now all that they needed was—

 

“Genichirou, he—” He tried again, his gaze staring down at the ground in front of him. Inui rubbed his shoulders. “—Seiichi, he…”

 

“Renji!” Sanada yelled impatiently. The despair that clenched his body was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It gripped every extremity; and every nerve was pinched.

 

“He didn’t make it.”

 

“What?”

 

“There were unexpected complications—” Yanagi started.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“What do _you_ mean, what do I mean?” Yanagi replied, shaking his head. He refused to meet Sanada’s desperate stare. “ _He didn’t make it._ ”

 

Sanada looked down at the grass. The faint, hollow whistle of the wind was the only thing that could be heard exempt the faint chatter coming from back at the courts.

 

Yukimura didn’t make it.

 

Rikkai won the Kanto regionals for the sixteenth year in a row, but Yukimura didn’t survive his surgery.

 

The one who wanted the win more than anybody. More than Sanada. More than Yanagi. More than any of them.

 

Their captain. Their beloved, dear captain, with the laugh of a gentle wind-chime.

 

Slowly, as it sunk deeper, _deeper_ ; and with no lack of pain—it felt as if all of Sanada’s bones broke at once.  


	3. Like a wind chime

Sanada decided he would tell the rest of the team the following Monday, as to not interfere with the joy of their victory. Inui, the unfortunate spectator to their exchange, promised the both of them [speaking more so to Yanagi] that he wouldn’t speak a word of it.

 

He was unsure of how he would handle rumors. They were bad enough as it was.

 

After the courts cleared and the rest of the regulars had long since left, Yanagi’s older sister gave Sanada a ride home. No words were exchanged between any of them on the long, miserable ride to Sanada’s place. He bid his farewells to Yanagi, thanked his sister, then slipped out of the car.

 

The car engine soon disappeared down the road. Sanada stood in front of his house, absolutely numb.

 

What was he supposed to do now?

 

His chest ached. In irrational thought, he wanted to claw with desperation at his skin, as if it would provide some relief to the horrible, horrible throbbing that left him unable to feel anything else.

 

This feeling wasn’t numbness, no.

 

It was worse than that.

 

By far, this was the worst feeling Sanada had ever experienced.

 

Sanada gripped his tennis bag, turning away from his house. He walked down the residential alleyway, quiet aside from the scuff of his running shoes against the gravel. What would he do at home? Stare at the wall?

 

At least outside, he could get some fresh air.

 

He walked to the park that he and Yanagi rode through earlier that day. It was now the early evening, the sky a rusty shade of orange. The park was still fairly empty, aside from a few scattered couples and kids running through the grass, close to the water bed. Sanada sat down underneath a tree with a long sigh, resting his bag in the grass beside him.

 

He stared off, fearful of the thoughts that were creeping up on him.

 

There had been times when he and Yukimura strolled this park, back when he was healthy.

 

They would walk, strategize, talk about school, sit down together on the bench closest to the water and watch the ducks ruffle their feathers and dip down in search of food. Yukimura would laugh at their tails sticking up in the air.

 

“Yukimura.” Sanada whispered to himself, picking the cool, damp grass at his fingertips.

 

He wondered how Yukimura’s family was feeling right now. If Sanada felt this horrible, how did _they_ feel? Was there a feeling worse than this?

 

Yukimura didn’t talk often about his family. He wasn’t sure if there was a reason for that, or if Yukimura was just the kind of person that didn’t talk much about his personal life.

 

Probably the latter.

 

It was almost funny. Sanada probably talked too often about the boring matters between himself and his grandfather, but Yukimura always listened intently.

 

Thinking about the way he would watch him talk, with a soft, gentle smile on his face made Sanada’s heart feel like it was breaking all over again.

 

He couldn’t think about him, but he couldn’t not think about him either.

 

It hurt. _It hurt._

 

Sanada leaned back against the tree, listening to the rustling of the leaves overhead. He held his hand to his chest and closed his eyes, his fingers curling against the fabric of the jersey he was sure the other regulars had long since taken off.

 

His heart throbbed, _ached_ , and with each beat it grew even heavier, like it was sewn through his nerves with lead and steel.

 

How was he supposed to move on from this?

 

* * *

  


The funeral was a week later.

 

Sanada wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen so many flowers in one place before.

 

The Rikkai tennis club had put their monthly funds into assisting the floral decor, given that after announcing the tragic news, Sanada recommended the entire team take a month off to clear their heads from recent events. That would certainly be beneficial for him, at least.

 

The viewing room was filled with dozens upon dozens of bouquets of white lilies, and it was truly a spectacular sight indeed.

 

“Woah.” Marui had commented as he looked around, walking in alongside Jackal.

 

Kirihara was at Yanagi’s side. Inui was also here, his arm wrapped around Yanagi in a comforting embrace. They seemed to be hanging out a lot lately, the four year lack of contact now behind them.

 

Not that Sanada really cared right now, but it was easier to focus on the little things rather than what they were all actually gathered for.

 

Sanada sat at the back of the room, hands on his lap. He looked down. He couldn’t bring himself to view the casket.

 

He couldn’t bring himself to look up in worry of the spill of tears that were currently beading his waterline.

 

There were whispers, some of the other regulars looking back at Sanada every now and again. They were _waiting_ for him to cry, surely. Whether their stares were out of concern or mockery, Sanada stood up, unable to deal with it. The service hadn’t even begun yet.

 

He quietly left for the restroom.

 

Clicking the lock behind him, he was thankful that it was a single stall. He sighed, stepping up to the sink. His reflection was awful, his eyebags darker than usual and his skin paper thin. He wondered when the last time he got a full night’s sleep was.

 

Certainly not anytime since Yukimura had fallen ill.

 

Sanada noticed then that there was a vase of flowers on the marble counter top, an arrangement of beautiful white lilies.  

 

A single petal had fallen from one, masking in with the pearl white of the sink top.

 

He picked it up, his thumb running of the smooth surface.

 

Instantly, it reminded him of his last night with Yukimura in the garden, brushing the flower petal across his cheek, the only nerve endings in his body that still felt anything.

 

There was suddenly a knock on the door.

 

“Occupied.” Sanada choked out loudly, not realizing how close he was to actual tears until he heard himself talk.

 

“Genichirou, it’s me,” came a familiar voice from the other side.

 

Sanada opened the door, blinking stupidly as Yanagi stood there, a concerned expression on his face. He looked handsome, dressed in his black suit.

 

“Renji?” He asked, surprised.

 

“I heard you leave,” Yanagi explained. “I was just worried.”

 

“I’m fine.” Sanada whispered.

 

Definitely unconvincing.

 

Yanagi pushed his way inside the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind them. Before Sanada could open his mouth to say anything, Yanagi’s arms were closed around him. He offered a surprisingly comforting embrace, squeezing him tight in his arms. Sanada stopped breathing, needing to regain control of his composure before he broke down for real.

 

“You don’t have to go through this alone.” Yanagi murmured, rubbing his hands on Sanada’s back. “We’re all here for you.”

 

Sanada was stunned, but carefully returned the hug.

 

The tears spilled then, and everything was up in the air.

 

His hands clenched, the lily petal firm in his grasp as he buried his face into Yanagi’s shoulder. A surprising comfort, though much needed. Sanada’s soft cries echoed within the small restroom. Yanagi said nothing, he just rubbed his back, soothed him, told him that he was there for him; that they were _all_ there for him.

 

And as nice as that was, they both knew there would be no talk of this ever again.

 

Surely, Yanagi wept too, in his own way. They held each other, in sadness for the lost of their dear captain, their friend. In that bathroom, they missed a funeral service that would do him no justice, speeches from family members who assured on about how missed he would be despite not being there through the advancement of his illness.

 

People that didn’t know him.

 

Sanada knew him. His teammates knew him.  

 

But surely, not well enough.

 

And that was the end of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Thank-you so much for reading. Please do read the continuation to this fic, Blossom, playing on the same AU.


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